


Long December

by Hopeful_Romantic



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeful_Romantic/pseuds/Hopeful_Romantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chiana deals with her grief immediately following the PKwars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long December

**Disclaimer:** The Jim Henson Company owns Farscape, I'm just borrowing the characters for a moment. No copyright infringement is intended and no money was made from this ficlit. Any similarity to any other story not my own is coincidence. 

**Title:** Long December  
 **Genre:** Farscape ficlit, tragedy, character study(Chiana)  
 **Rating:** PG-13 or R, rated primarily for alcohol use, Farscape swears, and adult concepts  
 **Timeline:** Immediately after "Peacekeeper Wars"  
 **Author's Notes:** Just an old ficlit I wrote about Chiana's grief and how she deals with it. 

* * *

Chiana sent another empty bottle of raslak spinning across the smooth floor of the Terrace. The dark glass scattered the reflected starlight as it spun to crash against the far wall with half a dozen other bottles. Slivers of several shattered bottles glittered in that same cool starlight as they mimicked the starscape above.

1812, and a small handful of DRD’s hovered, but every time that they attempted to clear away the mess, Chiana aimed a pulse pistol in their direction, driving them off. 

“Chiana?” Pilot’s soothing voice spoke to her over the comms as he attempted to reach her once more. 

With a small half sob, half cry, the young Nebari ripped the comms from her chest and flung it with a clatter in the direction of the broken raslak bottles. One of the DRD’s made a move to retrieve the device, but before it could reach the mess of bottles against the wall, Chiana aimed another shot at the debris. Slivers of glass, half broken bottles, and the comms device exploded with the force of the shot.

Chiana watched dispassionately as the debris scattered over the warm Terrace floor and drove the DRD’s back. Then she reached for yet another bottle of raslak. The young Nebari grimaced as the searing alcohol burned its way down her throat and made her eyes water.

“Not enough,” she muttered grimly. “Never enough.”

Chiana stumbled to her feet and looked around the Terrace with eyes blurred by alcohol and tears. She had rarely been in this place. There was an unspoken belief that it had always been John and Aeryn’s place; theirs alone. Now, desperately, she wanted to somehow break that; lash out in any way that she could.

When she caught sight of the small raised platform that the couple had used to cradle little D’Argo during his naming, an intense, irrational anger filled her. With a pained cry, Chiana sent the now empty raslak bottle hurtling in its direction. The bottle shattered brightly against the platform.

“Not enough,” she practically cried.

Chiana raised the pulse pistol and took unsteady aim at the platform.

“It’s not fair,” she cried out into the still air of the silent chamber. 

“They’re not any better than us. They’re not more important than us. Frell, the stupid human doesn’t even have the frelling wormhole dren in his head anymore,” she hiccupped out.

She pulled the trigger. Pillows and blankets burned and fell loose from the platform. Chiana watched with tears in her eyes as she fell back to the floor in a pained heap.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered in an aching voice as she curled herself into the fetal position. “D’Argo’s dead,” she said in a flat voice. “It’s not fair.”

“Chiana,” the voice reached out to her, dim and muffled through the sealed Terrace door. 

She ignored the gentle voice, trying to curl even tighter in upon herself.

“Chiana,” the gentle voice called again, reaching out to the aching girl where she lay on the floor.

“D’Argo’s dead,” she whispered into the still air, clinging to her pain as if it were the only real thing left to her.

“Chiana, please. Open the door.”

“Go away, Aeryn,” the young Nebari growled out loudly.

After several moments of silence, Chiana heard the sound of the door being slowly pried opened. She looked over wearily to see 1812 and the other DRD’s working to free the door from the makeshift seal that the Nebari had used to keep it closed. On the other side of the door, Aeryn stood, an expression of concern plain upon her face.

“Go away, Aeryn. Just leave me alone,” Chiana ground out.

Aeryn stepped carefully through partially opened door and looked around the Terrace at the destruction that Chiana had caused in her grief.

“I said go away, Aeryn,” the young Nebari spoke numbly.

“So this is it then?’ Aeryn asked quietly, gesturing gently around at the destruction. “You’re just going to drown yourself in raslak and destroy as much of the Terrace that you can with a stolen pulse pistol?”

Chiana rose unsteadily to her feet, waving Winona carelessly. “I’ll get drunk when and where I want,” she ground out. “And just because this is your spot with Crichton, doesn’t mean someone else can’t be here.”

Aeryn raised her hands in a placating gesture. 

“And just because you name your narl after him, doesn’t make it right,” she spat.

Aeryn stepped cautiously forward toward the aching girl before her. 

“Why the frell is your D’Argo alive, and mine’s dead?” Chiana asked, her voice anguished. 

Suddenly, the Nebari’s eyes blazed and she aimed Winona in Aeryn’s direction. 

“Chiana, you don’t want to do that,” Aeryn said calmly and the young girl lowered the pulse pistol, wavering on her feet.

“How did you do it?” Chiana asked quietly.

“Badly,” the beautiful Sebacean replied as she took another step closer. 

“I forced everyone away, including that part of myself that John loved and had brought to life. I tried to kill it all, to die with him. To die alone and free of everything but the memory of him. I thought if I did that…” Aeryn shook her head slightly and took one more step closer to where Chiana still wavered on her feet.

“But I wasn’t alone Chiana, and neither are you.”

“D’Argo’s dead,” the young Nebari hiccupped. “He’s dead.”

Aeryn took another step closer, placing her only a few paces from where Chiana stood. The lovely gray girl looked to Aeryn with dull, pained eyes. Suddenly, she brought Winona to her temple. But the ex-peacekeeper moved forward quickly and disarmed Chiana before the Nebari could pull the trigger.

Suddenly, Chiana seemed to lose all strength, and Aeryn had to catch her as she started to fall to the Terrace floor. They ended on the floor in a small heap, Chiana cradled in Aeryn’s arms as she began to sob.

“Why, why, why?” she whimpered as Aeryn rocked her. “He’s dead…”

“I know, Chiana. I know,” Aeryn whispered, continuing to rock her.

“I would have said yes this time,” Chiana whispered through her tears. “If he had asked, I would have said yes this time and meant it, Aeryn. Now he’ll never know that.”

Aeryn continued to rock the sobbing girl, stroking her short mop of hair and crooning soft soothing sounds.

“I would have gone with him to Hyneria and been a frelling farmwife. We could have adopted dozens of narls.”

Aeryn smiled into the girl’s hair.

“Well,” Chiana smirked lightly, “at least one.”

“Oh Goddess,” she sobbed, “D’Argo’s dead.”

Aeryn stroked Chiana’s hair gently and continued to rock her. “I’m here Chiana. I’m here. “

"Shhh, shhh,” Aeryn soothed.

“D’Argo was so proud of you, Chiana. And he knew, he knew you loved him.”

“Shh, shh…”

* * *

 

“Help me,” Aeryn said quietly as John entered the Terrace, following 1812 and One Eye.

Chiana lay cradled in Aeryn’s arms, finally asleep, her tearstained face turned to the Sebacean’s shoulder. 

John nodded and moved to gently take the sleeping girl from Aeryn’s arms. 

“Come on, Pip,” John whispered softly.

“I’m not alone,” Chiana mumbled into his shoulder as John lifted her up. 

“Never, Pip,” he said gently as Aeryn reached to gently stroke the girl’s hair once more before they took her down the tier to her room…

fin


End file.
